But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind. He was speechless. The oranges were of the Syrian variety, small but filled with scarlet honey. ‘You have rifled his papers. You think everything is harmless and simple, and so forth. But in that case, why the raging jealousy about Madame having taken her place. Don’t be frightened, dear.
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